Bus Ride

It is still dark when I leave for work this morning. The bus shelter up the street glows like some sort of oasis in the night, beckoning me with its flourescent lure.

My friend Mark once posted this picture he took of a bus shelter in New York City and down one side of the shelter was a ground-to-roof advertising poster that said "What Do You Love?" That question stood out in the bleak urban landscape like a slap in the face. What do you love? What do you? What do? What?

I huddle in the cold bus shelter, alone, and think long and hard about that question. And then the bus comes.

Always interrupted. Always.

I settle into the warmth of the bus and stare out the window. Buses are not for thinking. Buses are for staring, watching, observing, daydreaming, fantasizing, holding your loved one's hand, making out in the back seat if you're fifteen, leering, talking, answering your cellphone. Buses are for many things, but not thinking.

This morning, I just stare. The sun starts to rise as we leave Kilbirnie. Wisps of silver and charcoal clouds suffused with candy floss pink and mauve against the clearest of early morning skies. I imagine myself with camera and tripod capturing those colours.

That is what I mostly do on the bus. I am constantly creating pictures, framing potential photographs in little rectangles in my mind. I make mental notes to myself to come back to a particular place with my camera... those brick steps leading up to the church, that bright red and yellow shop, those white daisies against that mustard garage door. I never do go back, but maybe one day I will.

And then we are in town, rolling along Courtenay Place. The Hummingbird sign is glowing pink in the reflected morning light. How do they do that, I always wonder. No lights on in the shops, too early. Except for Kenny's Cafe with its comforting neon green and blue sign over the greasy spoon eatery. And further up, the baristas doing their early morning thing in Starbucks, Expressaholic, Cue Coffee.

The city is still asleep.

As I near work, I always think about my boys, and wonder why I'm doing this, leaving my two boys behind and paying someone else to look after them. Sometimes I almost cry, it is almost a physical urge to turn around and run home to them.

But then it's my stop, and I get off the bus and go to work.

Tunnel

Late Night Crooning

It's late, too late for my weary eyes, and I'm putting Joshua to bed, tucking him in for the fifth time tonight because he keeps getting out of bed, and the radio is on, some public radio station, low and soothing, and so there I am with Nat King Cole crooning away in the background and I'm singing Unforgettable right along with Nat, and Josh is looking up at me with this smile and these big soppy moon eyes, as only a two year old can do to his mother because at this tender age she is still the most important woman in his life and he starts singing back It's incredible and man that baby has the tune just right and, at that very moment, I fell in love all over again just like I had done two years and three months before when I'd held him for the first time in my arms as a newborn.

Unforgettable.

Cynicism, it starts so young

A true conversation between myself and Matthew on the way to school:

Matthew (sadly): Mum, why do wishes not come true sometimes? I wished on the first star of the evening, but my wish hasn't come true.

Me (heartbroken that my five year old has wishes that don't come true): Well, honey, sometimes wishes come true in unexpected ways.

Matt: What do you mean?

Me: It means that sometimes our wishes come true but in a different way than we originally hoped they would.

Matt: Did that ever happen to you?

Me (feeling quite proud that I'd turned this around): Yes, I used to wish that I was really rich.

Matt: Did your wish come true?

Me: It sure did. I'm rich beyond my wildest dreams. I have the most precious treasure in the world. (Patting myself on the back now).

Matt (excited): Do you?? What does it look like?

Me: It looks like two little blonde-haired boys.

Matt (disappointed): Oh. It's me and Josh, isn't it?

Me: Yes, it is.

Matt: Are me and Josh treasures?

Me (not giving up yet): Matt, if someone offered me a billion dollars and all the gold and silver in the world in exchange for you and Josh, I would say no. You mean more to me than all the money in the world.

Matt (matter-of-factly): I'd take the money.

Me: You would? Why?

Matt: Because then I'd be RICH!

Sigh.

So much for warm, fuzzy morality tales.

Toi toi